


starlight and fireflies

by renaissance



Series: Pynch Week 2016 [2]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:52:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/pseuds/renaissance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <i>They’ve never actually been on a date. Not really. They haven’t been dating for long and, frankly, there are better things to do with your boyfriend than go to the movies. It needs time to settle—Ronan still calls him Parrish more than Adam, and they’re rough around the edges, still fighting.</i>
  </p>
</blockquote><br/>Pynch Week day 2 – Prom Night
            </blockquote>





	starlight and fireflies

**Author's Note:**

> For day 2, I chose prom night. Sort of. Many thanks to Jo for reading over this one. Enjoy!

In the end, it’s Adam who makes the final call. “We’re not going,” he says. “I don’t think I could bear it.”

It’s not because they would be each other’s dates—Henry’s going with Cheng Two, bringing down prom one Henry at a time—or even because Adam doesn’t have anything nice to wear. (Ronan has his measurements, if not in numbers then in his memory. He could just dream Adam a suit.)

No, it’s because Aglionby stands for things that Adam doesn’t want to stand for anymore. He needs the school for his good grades and when he's done with it, he’s putting all these years of feeling like the odd one out behind him. It’s not his life. It can’t claim him.

And he feels like Blue when he tells this to his mirror: “I don’t want to be part of the institution. I’m not a raven boy.”

Ronan is more responsive than the mirror, but then, Adam doesn’t use quite the same words he’d rehearsed. “I don’t think I could bear it,” is what he says, because it’s vague, and he doesn’t have to commit himself to a real opinion that way. And he’s not in front of the mirror—they’re sitting on his bed, backs to the wall—so he doesn’t have to look at what his face is doing when he says it.

“Whatever,” Ronan says. “Bunch of losers in suits. We don’t need that.”

“We don’t,” Adam agrees.

But there’s a hint of something in Ronan’s voice that suggests otherwise. Adam knows Ronan is a romantic, despite the tough guy airs he puts on—he knows this because of how Ronan is when they’re alone, all quiet utterances and gentle touches, and even when they’re not alone, stolen glances in the corridor between classes. He even brings Adam flowers sometimes, to adorn the one windowsill in the flat above St. Agnes’.

Adam has no sympathy for tradition, no patience for ritual.

“We’ll go out somewhere instead,” he says, aiming for a compromise. “Just the two of us.”

Ronan bumps his shoulder against Adam’s, nudging him closer to the edge of the bed. “Fuck, Parrish, it’s almost like you’re asking me out on a date.”

“It’s almost like we’re _dating_ ,” Adam says wryly.

They’ve never actually been on a date. Not really. They haven’t been dating for long and, frankly, there are better things to do with your boyfriend than go to the movies. It needs time to settle—Ronan still calls him Parrish more than Adam, and they’re rough around the edges, still fighting.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ronan says. “Smart-ass. Okay. We’ll go on a date. On prom night.”

He doesn’t ask if Adam has anywhere in mind, and Adam is more than content to leave it up to Ronan-the-romantic. Neither of them mention that there’s a month to go until prom, and thirty-odd nights for them to go on as many dates as they wanted. Maybe Adam doesn’t have so much against a sense of occasion after all.

It’s twenty-nine nights, actually, and they spend those indoors, at the Barns or St. Agnes’. They make time for Nino’s, especially when Blue’s working there. Adam mostly studies, though. Exams aren’t long after prom night, and he finds it hard to focus on anything else. He studies his notes and textbooks and his university options, and Ronan, when he gets the opportunity. No matter how much he studies, he never feels quite prepared.

And then the night itself, after a warm day in April and afternoon rains. It feels like standing on the precipice of summer. The air is fresh with the perfume of spring beauties and honeysuckles when Adam steps out of St. Agnes’ to the tune of a car horn. Ronan skips most of his classes these days and in his spare time he’s kitted out the BMW—now the horn plays a distinctive tune, one that Adam’s not familiar with, but which he suspects is something from an Irish folk song.

He breathes in the day, eyes closed. He hears car doors opening and slamming, footsteps on the pavement.

“Parrish.”

Adam opens his eyes. “Lynch.”

“Ready to go?”

Ronan has a sprig of dreamt-up flowers sticking out of the pocket of his ratty old jeans, small pearly blossoms on spindly branches and drooping petals the colour of the sunset pendant from a long green stalk. Otherwise, he looks no different to how he usually does—maybe it’s the angle the light hits him, or maybe it’s the way he’s holding himself with a little less surety than usual, but something catches at Adam’s heart and pulls the corner of his mouth into a reluctantly telling smile.

“Do I get to know where we’re going?” he asks.

He could’ve taken charge. They could’ve taken the Hondayota and Adam could’ve set the course. But there’s something fun about making Ronan do it. (Adam is already wearing his shittiest jeans and a shirt that he’s long outgrown and velcro-strapped sandals. There’s no point in going to any more effort.)

“Do you _want_ to know?” Ronan counters.

Adam thinks about it for a second. “Not really.”

“Then get in.”

Ronan is a reckless driver. Speed limits are nothing when you can just dream a replacement car, not that it would ever come to that. And the streets are empty, because as Ronan says, “Everyone with a car is parked outside Aglionby tonight.”

Adam punches his arm over the gear shift. “Very funny.”

“This is no joke,” Ronan says. “There’s no-one for us to race.”

“Race yourself,” Adam says, and he means it to sound like a rude suggestion, but Ronan takes it literally and presses down on the accelerator. He lets out a whoop as he passes a yellow light—Adam looks over his shoulder to see it turn red. They drive until they’re in the part of town where close-packed shops give way to superstores and industrial lots, and then further, past trailer parks like the one Adam is trying very hard not to think about and suburban enclaves with lawns that all look the same. Then they’re in the country proper and the sky is taking on a navy hue, and for once Ronan isn’t playing any music, so the night can speak for itself.

“Of course,” Adam says. “Your idea of a date is to take me to a farm.”

“Not a farm,” Ronan says. Adam wouldn’t mind if he could be a little less cryptic sometimes, but he supposes it’s part of Ronan’s charm.

They drive a little longer and up a pass to the mountains, stopping in a forest clearing. When Adam gets out of the car he stops breathing, just for a moment, as the smell of the trees and the fresh soil hits him.

“This is the darkest place in the state,” Ronan says.

“I’m impressed,” Adam says. “Did you look that up?”

“Like fuck I did,” Ronan says. “I heard Gansey talking about it.”

He’s leaning against the side of the car, and Adam rests back on Ronan’s shoulder. He tilts his head back and fixes his gaze just below the Milky Way—dark early, late January, freshman physics, the telescope out the back of Aglionby, the teacher telling them that the stars would appear brighter if they tried to keep them unfocused, at the edges of their vision. The sky looks painted on, like a film set, but the cool breeze and the unbelievable quiet reminds him that he’s somewhere very real.

“I know you wanted to go to prom,” Adam says, letting go of his carefully-maintained semblance of tact, “but this is nicer, isn’t it?”

Ronan grunts, slipping an arm around Adam’s waist. “I didn’t want to go to prom. You know I give less of a shit about Aglionby than you do. I wanted to take you out. Prom would’ve been an excuse.”

Adam waits. Gives him space.

“But yeah. This is nicer.”

Smirking, Adam turns his head to face Ronan and says, “We’re better off alone. Don’t think they’d take too kindly to kissing on the dancefloor.”

“This _is_ the dancefloor,” Ronan says, and before Adam can ask what he means, Ronan kisses him, and Adam pushes him back against the car and indulges in their privacy by slipping a hand under Ronan’s shirt.

Adam thinks they’ll go further, but Ronan pulls back for breath. “Wait.” He reaches behind him through the open window and flicks a switch on the car’s CD player.

“What’s this?” Adam asks, grinning. He knows what it is. It’s _Dancing in the Moonlight_. Not the sort of music Ronan usually listens to.

“I dreamt you a mixtape,” Ronan says, so fast that Adam would miss it if he weren’t so attuned to Ronan’s peculiar frequencies.

“You,” Adam begins—an accusation—but he doesn’t bother finishing, just takes Ronan’s hands and pulls him into the field, long grass brushing against his exposed heels. The song swells and then fades into the next and somehow the BMW’s sound system is enough to engulf the night, and it turns out that Ronan knows a lot more pop music than he lets on, at least subconsciously.

Neither of them are born dancers. It doesn’t matter. They spin each other and take a few tries to get it right, tripping on rocks and crushing wildflowers under their feet, laughing, singing along badly—although Ronan insists Adam has a good voice, Adam knows he’s just saying that.

Still. “This is perfect,” Adam tells him. “Thank you.”

“I would’ve brought fireflies,” Ronan says, “but I left the ORBMASTER with Declan.”

“I’m sure they’ll come out when it’s darker,” Adam says.

“How late d’you want to stay out?” Ronan asks.

“Late enough,” Adam says. He frowns. “Did you bring any food?”

Ronan’s face falls. “I’m not used to planning ahead.”

Adam laughs, pulling Ronan by the wrists back to the BMW. “We’ll go to Nino’s. It’ll be great.”

 _Eventually_ seems to be subtext, as Ronan resists any more to leave and Adam isn’t really trying that hard. They sit on the car’s bonnet and kiss for longer than they ever have, until Adam’s lips are sore enough that he doesn’t care. The playlist has long since run out; Adam makes a mental note to get Ronan to listen to real music more often.

They shift, the sky darkens; the Milky Way is glittering so sharply that it feels like they’ll be arrested for stealing it away from the rest of civilisation, and a few fireflies begin to flicker from amongst the trees. It grows cold and Ronan, only wearing a singlet, starts feeling like goosebumps under Adam’s fingers. The flowers in Ronan’s pocket are crushed by Adam’s knee as he clambers over Ronan, to sit beside him again. “Shit,” Ronan says, “I was going to give those to you,” and Adam laughs so hard he starts wheezing.

“Let’s,” he says, and pauses for breath, “let’s go get dinner.”

The clock on the dashboard reads eleven when they get back to Henrietta, but Nino’s is open late. They’re not the only ones in there, but it’s still quieter than usual—all of the regulars are parked outside Aglionby for the night. Adam sits next to Ronan even though it’s a booth for six, and Ronan tangles his fingers with Adam’s under the table. While they wait for their order to arrive, Adam repetitively folds and unfolds the corner of the paper placemat with his free hand.

Just as the waitress approaches with their pizza, the bell rings to signify the front door opening, and Gansey’s voice rings out across the restaurant, “Add a vegetarian and a supreme to that, please!”

Adam suspects that Ronan’s blunted surprise is mirrored on his own face. Gansey has Blue’s hand in his, and he’s linking arms with Henry on the other side, who’s dragging Cheng Two by the wrist. And they’re all wearing flower crowns.

“I thought we might find you here,” Gansey says, “so we came by on the way to afterprom.” He grins. “Afterprom! Isn’t that a good word? We’re all going back to Litchfield House to indulge in some dubious consumption. You’re invited, of course.”

“Just say _drinking_ ,” Ronan says.

“You can’t invite people to my house,” Henry says, bumping his shoulder against Gansey’s in a way that suggests there was a preprom, too. He turns to Adam and Ronan. “You’re invited back to Litchfield House for drinks. Coming?”

Blue takes a slice of the pizza, from Adam’s side, and slides into the booth next to him. It’s weird seeing her dressed up, even if her dress is as homemade and quirky as you’d expect. “Had a good night?”

“For all you know we could’ve just stayed in,” Adam says.

“Sure,” Blue acknowledges with a shrug, “but Ronan told me he was planning something big.”

Ronan puts up his palms defensively, so Adam graciously saves the question—since when is he on such good terms with Blue that he confides in her about things like this?—for later.

Gansey and the Henries sit across from them and the conversation turns to the prom. “Oh, the ‘spring fling’ theme was delightful,” Gansey says. “Tasteful—that’s the word. I was worried it would be tacky, but it was rather understated, actually.”

“Are you for real?” Cheng Two says. “It was like the upholstery at my grandma’s house. I’ve never seen a whole hall become the physical manifestation of _kitsch_.”

“It was a bit much,” Blue agrees, “but we had fun.” She nudges Adam. “You guys should’ve come, even for a bit.”

 _She doesn’t think about Aglionby the way we do_ , Adam reminds himself. “Ah, well,” he says, “we’ll come to afterprom to make up for it.”

“Good, great,” Gansey says. “That’s all we ask.”

He catches Adam’s eye, and Adam knows Gansey gets it—that Aglionby isn’t home for them the same way it’s been for him. But for Adam, the friends he’s made more than make up for it. Henry and the Vancouver boys—he doesn’t know them as well yet, but he’s getting there.

(And Noah—well, it’s too soon to do something like afterprom at Monmouth, but Adam still thinks about Noah every day, and tonight, that he should be there with them.)

They’re at Nino’s until well past midnight, and Adam lets himself relax into the company. He knows Ronan can deal with it, even though he’s slouching in the corner like they’re back in class. Somewhere along the line Blue’s flower crown makes it onto Adam’s head, and when they leave, Adam passes it onto Ronan.

“I look stupid in this,” Ronan declares.

“You haven’t even seen yourself,” Adam says.

The air is bracing cold now, a reminder that it’s not quite summer yet, and Ronan sticks close to Adam in lieu of having been sensible and packed a jacket—which Adam didn’t do either, but he’s glowing, lit up hot by his own contentment.

They take two cars to Litchfield House despite Gansey’s earnest insistence that they can all squeeze into the Pig. Really, though, Adam is selfish. He just wants more time alone with Ronan.

“Hey,” he says, tipping the flower crown backwards so he can see Ronan’s eyes more clearly. “Thanks for tonight.”

Ronan is, uncharacteristically, lost for a comeback. “Yeah,” he says. “Whatever, Parrish.”

“Adam.”

“Adam,” Ronan agrees. “Yeah.”

“We have to do this more often,” Adam says. “Go on dates, I mean. It’s not like we need an excuse. We’re _dating_ , for god’s sake.”

“I guess,” Ronan says, “but we don’t need to be like everyone else. We can do things our own way.”

Adam raises his eyebrows. “What, you’d rather stay in and—”

Ronan distracts him with a kiss, and it’s probably just as well, because Adam might’ve made himself blush otherwise. The lights in Nino’s are being dimmed but the neon sign out front is still on, and the car park floodlights are bright enough that Adam can close his eyes without feeling over-the-top and romantic. He can’t see the Milky Way from here, anyway.

It doesn’t take starlight and fireflies to set the scene, though—this is where they belong, whatever else happens. This moment, this closeness, is all it takes. The clock on the dashboard reads 00:01, but the night’s just beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment! Or come find me on [tumblr](http://memordes.tumblr.com)/[twitter](http://twitter.com/_memorde).


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